Borne of Storm's End
by SilverStorm0
Summary: Lightning struck. Flames raged. Rain poured. But in the end, the storm ends and a new day begins.
1. Borne of Rain

Heat, searing heat. Each breath a thousand needles. The air itself weighed down on her chest. There were bright flickers, dulled through lids. Thoughts of panic screeched across the mindscape, broken only by the intense pain that would have forced spasms if not for a weakened and battered body.

One brother, at least, would not be in such pain. It was a little comforting.

The pulsing glows died.

A last congruent thought.

 _The heat is not so bad, now…_

* * *

It was surprising. Not something, but that there was surprise. Only darkness to be seen, but there was something beneath her. Harsh grains and hard lumps… coarse sand and stones, perhaps?

 _Her?_

Yes, that sounded right…

The next sense was smell. The assaulting, overpowering scent of recently lit charcoal, overlaid by a much fainter and fairer whiff of saffron incense.

Ears ringing, she could barely make out a few sounds. Something falling, wooden by the crashing thump.

Sight returned soon after. Blurry at first, the air stinging and making her eyes water further. Indistinct shades of blues, reds and browns bled together, slowly coming into focus as her eyes adjusted, showing a much clearer picture.

The open sky of mid-morning presented itself right above, nary a wisp of cloud in sight. It was framed by the ragged outline of brown timbers, charred black in plenty of places, with a small white swath that she almost didn't recognized as a muzzle, right at the bottom. A large red shape shifted, just out of her direct line of sight.

Tilting her head, she could see it was a magnificent bird of crimson, flecks of color reflecting off rainbow-hued primaries, easily five times her size, perched on one of the few seemingly stable beams above. It turned its' neck, looking directly at her.

Ruffling its wings, it took off, slowly gliding down on the huge surfaces. It landed, lighter than she had expected it to, alighting right near her.

" _...Hello there,"_ he, for the voice was clearly masculine, spoke in rich, dark tones, comparable to that new foreign sweet… chocolate, was it? Despite his imposing figure, she felt no fear. No desire to run. Something felt missing, as though there was something she was supposed to do in his presence.

" _H… hello?"_ she answered softly, struggling to stand, or at least get off her side. Flexing a leg, she found it to be a bit stiff, but no longer weak. Wait… why had she expected it to be weak? Putting weight on her forepaws, she raised herself to a sitting position.

" _Good to see you awake,"_ the Fire-type said, for now she saw him up close it was clear that heat was rising from his plumage.

" _What are… you?"_ she spoke carefully, sounding out each word with precise vowels and consonants. Her voice was oddly unfamiliar, her own tongue tripping her speech.

The larger Pokemon, for she was sure of that much, hummed contemplatively, as though it was a somehow difficult, or at least complicated, question.

" _In a literal sense, I am a Ho-Oh. In a more abstract sense, I am your Father,"_ he seemed proud his response, if not slightly surprised. She knew what a Father was.

" _What… who, am I?"_ Father chuckled, a soothing, light-hearted sound.

" _You are my Daughter,"_ he said, as though it were the most simple thing in the world.

And that it was.

* * *

AN In case you're confused:  
A) the POV character is a Suicune  
B) this is when Ho-Oh resurrects the Beasts  
C) it runs on the fan-theory of the three first eeveelutions being turned into the Beasts

Part 1 of three


	2. Borne of Lightning

He wanted to run. Run, jump, climb. Anything to get away from the embers licking at his pelt. But they stuck. They burned. He felt his fur being consumed by the blaze.

Oh, how it hurt. Hot coals blistering his sensitive skin.

How helpless he felt.

 _How terrified._

It was almost a relief when he could no longer feel them.

* * *

Fear. Piercing fear.

Got to get away.

 _Get away, get away, getawaygetawaygetaway-_

A dull ache. When had that started? Yes, a dull ache in a forelimb. He froze in his unintentional flailing.

He could feel.

 _Nothing was burning._

Wait, he?

It all sounded right. But why had there been burning?

Smell. Charred. Something charred. If he focused closer, there was a nice, sweeter smell. Still burnt, but like it was meant to be burnt. Incense? He had never cared much for incense before.

Squirming, he felt his surroundings. Air brushing past his pelt. Hard, wooden floors. He opened his mouth to mewl, only for a deep rumble to erupt in its place.

So surprised, eyes he had not thought to check sprung open. At first it was difficult to make use of the blurs of brown, black and red, but as time went on they solidified into clear images.

Walls crumbling from fire. An entire half of the floor collapsed. And a large, magnificent red bird perched in front of him.

He should have been scared of that beak, those talons. But he was not. The pomemon was a source of peace, comfort radiating off its rainbow-hued wings. Or maybe that was the soft heat wafting from it.

He opened his mouth again, intent on asking… something. He wasn't sure what yet.

" _N-no more fire,"_ his startling deep voice cracked partway through. Oh. That wasn't the plan.

The bird, however, looked on with only sympathy. It leaned forward, gently pressing its beak against his head as he closed his eyes. It felt right.

" _Do not fret, my Child,"_ he - the flying-type - said in soothing tones. " _There is no fire to hurt you,"_

Something warm yet cool at the same time pressed against his back. It was a familiar, if unexpected, weight. The soft voice that spoke held that same familiarity, yet he was sure he had never heard it before.

" _Peace, Brother. Fear no longer of fire. Not as long as I am here."_ The feminine voice was a comfort.

And so he relaxed, leaning into the presence of his Sister and Father.

* * *

AN Part 2 of three


	3. Borne of Flames

Dry ash clung to his throat, spittle already too thick attempting to coat it. A gasping breath, sucking in poisoned air.

With fading conscious, he supposed he was lucky. The flames licking his coat were a comforting blanket rather than scorching torture. The same fire that was slowly but surely suffocating him.

He could hear, hear the pained screeches of his kin. The weakening mewls, begging for help.. But he could barely lift a paw, much less save them or himself. So he heard them go silent. First one, then the other.

His last breath, spent on a single thought.

 _I'm sorry I couldn't protect you…_

* * *

Guilt. There was guilt. Overwhelming guilt. An awareness of it, that struck deep to the core. Missing sight meant nothing in its face, nor did the discomfort pressing at one side.

He had failed.

He was not entirely sure what he had failed, but he had failed.

And the guilt was a heavy stone in his gut, the blanket weighing on his mind.

 _He?_

It was a confusing thought, but one deemed unimportant in the face of his failure.

A weight unrelated to his turmoil gently pressed onto the side not digging into the ground. It was warm, familiar and comforting. A static shock snapped, but even that was not unexpected.

He didn't deserve comfort.

He had failed them.

He growled, attempting to turn away from the weight, curling up on himself.

It stubbornly followed.

A second weight made itself known against his back. As familiar as the first, though in a different way. It cool against his thick pelt, almost damp, but not uncomfortably so.

His ear flicked, picking up on sweet nothings that had previously fallen on deaf ears.

He made an effort to roll away again, growling words in protest. " _I failed them, lost them,"_

" _We are not lost,"_ a soft, achingly familiar yet still alien, smooth alto voice floated by his head. There was a rumbling purr of agreement from the chin perched on his side.

Cracking open his eyes for the first time, he made out blobs of blue, yellow, purple and red. Blinks cleared away the blur, leaving sharp shapes.

The red, now recognizable as an avian of humongous proportions, nudged his cheek with its beak.

Despite the size difference, he felt no fear. There was a warmed in the gesture, or perhaps that was the fire he could sense roiling beneath the iridescent feathers.

" _You have not failed. Your family is here,"_ Father, for he was sure of that title if nothing else, spoke.

A sense of peace settled in his core, and he allowed himself the comfort of his Siblings.

 _They were safe._

* * *

AN So that wraps this up. Not much else to say.


End file.
